Chapter 5. Sibling Scars
Evie glided with the grace of a stalking panther, her dark cloak billowing behind her like the wings of a night raven as she closed in on her brother. Each step she took was a silent echo of determination, her piercing turquoise eyes fixed on him with an intensity that could rival the flickering gaslights of London's dim alleys. "Evie? What's happening?" Jacob's voice faltered, a blend of bewilderment and concern tinting his words as he struggled to comprehend the eerie and disquieting scene playing out in front of him. Evie's response to his questions was a silence that spoke volumes, her focus unbroken as she quickened her pace. A slight shift revealed a glint of steel from the hidden blade on her person. The heavy oak doors swung shut with a resounding thud, swallowing the room in an oppressive silence that quashed any hope of a swift departure.
"Evie, what in blazes are you up to!" Jacob's exclamation carried a tremor of fear as Evie abruptly surged forward, her blade swishing through the frigid air towards his heart. Reacting on pure instinct, he deflected the lethal arc just in the nick of time, springing back to widen the gap between them. "If there's a shred of sense in this madness, now would be the moment to enlighten me," Jacob implored, his words rushed and tinged with desperation, his gaze unwavering on the glinting steel, seeking any hint of his sister's elusive motives. Evie's demeanour turned glacial, her eyes devoid of emotion or regret. Silently, she initiated another assault, each strike executed with a seamless and unyielding grace.
Annie Starrick's icy gaze gleamed with a perverse delight as her intricate scheme unfurled before her, a malevolent grin tugging at the corners of her lips. Jacob found himself ensnared in an unyielding clash, deftly evading Evie's calculated strikes. In a grandiose gesture, the formidable leader of the Templars declared, "Dear guests, savour the pinnacle of our evening! Behold the riveting spectacle as the tenacious Frye twins tear each other apart!" The audience erupted into a cacophony of fervent cheers, their jubilant voices enveloping the combatants like a thunderous wave.
The deadly dance continued, a whirlwind of urgency and turmoil. Jacob's hazel eyes implored his sister, his voice quivering amidst the tumult, "Evie, please... you haven't turned against us... you haven't betrayed me..." His anguished plea lingered in the charged atmosphere.
Jacob's hope surged as Evie hesitated, a rare calm amidst the chaos. A flicker of trust sparked within him, easing his tense muscles. Just as he let his defences down, anticipating a moment of respite, she swiftly struck. The glint of her hidden blade pierced the air, aimed unerringly at his throat.
Reacting swiftly, Jacob's hand closed around her wrist, the tension evident in his straining muscles as he tried to halt the lethal blade. Evie countered, shoving him forcefully against the imposing doors that stood like vigilant guardians. "Evie...!" His voice strained with urgency as he resisted the invisible barrier she imposed. "What is this madness!?" Desperation etched his features as he locked gazes with her, and within the storm raging in her eyes, he noticed a single tear carving a path down her pale cheek. Her mouth trembled slightly, a quiver in her words as she breathed out, "Escape... I beg… of you."
A subtle, ethereal light softly illuminated from the mysterious hairpins adorning Evie's temples, casting a spectral glow upon her features. Her eyes gently closed, and her countenance twisted in a silent struggle against an invisible anguish. Jacob's heart raced as he grasped the gravity of the situation. Her visage took on an unsettling blankness, while her poised form conveyed a sense of focused determination behind the menacing blade.
Summoning a surge of resolve, Jacob deftly shifted her gauntlet to his right with a calculated move. In a swift motion, he let go of her wrist. The blade's edge brushed against his skin, leaving a sharp burn, yet this action disrupted her balance. Capitalizing on the opening, he unleashed a forceful kick to her midsection, propelling her off balance and forcing her to the floor.
"Forgive me," his voice carried a tinge of remorse as he murmured. With practiced ease, he swiftly tossed a smoke bomb down, creating a dense, twisting veil that enveloped their immediate area. Skilfully, he aimed his gauntlet upwards, activating a sleek hook shot that launched him with precision onto the right-side second-floor balcony.
Annie's gaze flicked upwards to her left, catching the ominous silhouette of the Assassin weaving through the billowing smoke. A surge of realization swept over her as she observed Jacob's determined stride, forcefully clearing a path through the crowd to secure an elevated position overlooking her. Panic tightening her chest, Annie cried out, "Protect me!" just as Jacob sprang lithely onto the railing. With a deft flick of his hand, he sent a glinting blade hurtling towards her. In that critical moment, Evie surged forward, swiftly deflecting the knife with a precise movement of her leather gauntlet, the sharp metallic clash reverberating through the tense air.
Jacob's frustration boiled within him, a low growl escaping his lips as he grappled with the impossible task ahead. Across from him, Annie's lips curled into a taunting smile, her defiance palpable as she sneered, "Kill me, and she remains ours, forever!" Her voice pierced the air, rallying the Templars in the room to turn against the Assassin. With a final glance of anguish at his sister, Jacob surged towards an open doorway. He barrelled through the throng of Templar loyalists, every sense heightened and on edge, guiding him through the chaos in his frantic escape bid.
Hunter's keen ears caught the raucous clamour emanating from the manor and he smirked, well aware that the commotion was likely audible for miles around. With practiced precision, he hunkered down into a stealthy stance, his movements calculated and silent, his rifle trained on the grand second-floor window. A rare flicker of amusement danced in his cold eyes as he turned to his companion, his voice a low murmur tinged with a touch of mischief. "Want to learn how to ground a young crow?" he inquired, gaze fixed intently on the looming windows ahead. "You simply clip its wings."
Jacob moved swiftly through the corridors with a predator's grace, his eyes keenly scanning the shadows for any movement. Each detail in the murky light sharpened under his focused gaze, guiding him unerringly along the route he had meticulously committed to memory. Ahead, a strategically placed window awaited, its silhouette promising a seamless exit when paired with the hay cart below. The whisper of cool night air and the promise of a silent landing called out to him like an old friend, urging him forward with an almost tangible allure.
Hunter's gaze locked onto the second-story windows facing east, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the elusive Assassin's silhouette darting through the dimly lit hallway. With meticulous precision, he recalibrated his focus towards the expansive window situated at the opposite end of the edifice, strategizing each moment before executing his calculated shot...
Jacob's arms flew up to protect his face as he crashed through the towering glass window. In the split second before gravity claimed him, he twisted in mid-air, bracing for the impending descent. Abruptly, a thunderous blast tore through the air, and searing agony exploded in his right shoulder, knocking him off course from his hay cart landing spot. The brutal impact with the unforgiving ground stole his breath away, and a primal scream of anguish escaped his lips as each bone reverberated with torment, a relentless wave of pain crashing over him.
The night air crackled with tension as the scout leaped up, his exultant cry slicing through the darkness, "Bullseye!" Hunter's steely gaze narrowed, a silent rebuke as he retorted, "Silence your tongue, fool." His rifle remained poised, a lethal extension of his intent as he scoured the shadows below for any hint of movement. Amidst the gloom, a wavering figure struggled towards the motionless carriages, its form shaky and desperate. "Lost your way, young crow?" Hunter's sneer dripped with venomous disdain. A calculated shot aimed at Jacob's right leg was fired with surgical precision; his aim not to end a life but to immobilize. The anticipation surged within Hunter, an insatiable hunger for the raw thrill of witnessing his prey's vitality ebb away up close. A dark pleasure tinged with malevolence that lingered in his mind and quickened his pulse, threatening to consume him entirely.
The grand doors of the manor burst open with a suddenness that sent a cascade of light spilling across the shadowed yard. This abrupt illumination overwhelmed Hunter's eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness, causing him to momentarily lose sight of his target.
Taking a daring glance around the corner of the stationary carriage, Jacob heightened his senses, acutely aware that the sniper had retreated in response to the unexpected glare. With a grimace etched on his face, Jacob painfully clambered onto the carriage seat, each movement a jolt of agony.
His hands shook as he grasped the horse reins, which felt like a lifeline amid the turmoil surrounding him. He let out a growl, the burning pain surging through him serving as a harsh reminder that some bastard had shot him—twice! His mind whirled thinking to himself if the night could get any worse. The noise coming from the manor hinted that it very well might.
With a heart pounding like the relentless rhythm of London's trains, Jacob spurred his horse onward, the leather reins snapping sharply against the steed's flanks in a symphony of urgency and desperation. Fortunately, the horse required little persuasion, its ears still ringing from the sharp crack of rifle shots that had shattered the night. They tore down the path with reckless speed, every jarring bump of the ride sending a spear of pain lancing through Jacob's wounded shoulder.
In the courtyard, the Templars' heads snapped in unison at the harsh scrape of wheels over gravel. Fixated on the fleeing Assassin, they lunged towards their waiting carriages with a synchronized urgency, each determined not to allow their target to vanish into the night.
Hunter descended the ivy-clad exterior of the centuries-old manor with a silent grace, his descent as smooth as a shadow slipping through darkness. Upon reaching the earth, he advanced with unwavering determination towards Annie, who stood in a whirlwind of agitation, commanding her Templars with visible vexation. Her gaze burned with a volatile blend of wrath and exasperation as she turned to confront him. "How did he slip away? Did you miss?" Her words dripped with acidic disdain, each syllable tinged with a venomous edge.
Hunter met her unwavering gaze, his cold eyes locking onto hers with a chilling determination. "No," he said steadily, "and now, if you'll pardon me, I have a hunt to complete and a trophy to claim." He then turned away without waiting for her reply.
Annie's glare could have scorched the earth as she watched Hunter retreat. Her voice was a serpent's hiss, "Make sure you finish the job." Turning her gaze towards Evie, who was a silent figure at her side, Annie's lips curled into a malevolent grin. With a chilling tone of satisfaction, she whispered, "That sensation must have been exquisite, my dear. You truly are a monster"
With a mock camaraderie, she looped her arm through Evie's as if they were the closest of friends, leading her around the hay cart. Her eyes danced with wicked amusement as she surveyed the scene before them. Suddenly, she feigned shock, gasping theatrically, "Oh my! Seeing your brother's blood staining the ground must bring you such joy." Evie quivered, her trembling form belying the storm raging within. Her gaze widened in silent outcry, but not a sound escaped her lips.
Every bone-rattling bump on the rugged road intensified Jacob's suffering, each one sending a fresh wave of agony through his wounded shoulder. The Templars, like unyielding shadows, crept ever closer in pursuit, their relentless advance palpable with each passing heartbeat. Struggling against the searing pain, Jacob strained to raise his pistol once more, only to be met with a fierce growl of frustration that escaped his lips involuntarily. "How am I going to get out of this!," he grumbled under his breath, the words a mere whisper amidst gritted teeth.
The pursuit raced onto a centuries-old stone bridge, its moss-covered arches amplifying the thunderous rhythm of galloping hooves and rolling wheels. Alongside, a sleek Templar carriage matched pace, its steeds exhaling billows of vapor that mingled with the Autumn chill. Jacob's gaze flicked to his side, fingers gripping the reins tightly as the rival coachman's laughter rang out, tinged with a manic fervour. "SO LONG, FRYE!"
In a swift, ruthless motion, the Templar raised his pistol and fired, the bullet striking Jacob's horse with lethal precision. The carriage spun out of control, veering violently to the side and crashing into the stone barrier of the bridge. With a heart-stopping lurch, Jacob was hurled over the edge, plunging into the dark depths of the river below.
The Thames' icy embrace slammed into him, a relentless force that felt like solid stone against his skin. The effort of swimming through the biting cold was a symphony of agony, each movement a battle against unbearable pain. Struggling to stay afloat in the frigid waters, Jacob's senses sharpened to their peak as he desperately searched for a lifeline. In the chaos, his gaze zeroed in on a substantial piece of wreckage—a shattered door drifting close by. Every stroke was a test of endurance as he pushed himself towards it, his grip on the broken door fuelled by an unwavering will to survive.
Clutching onto the makeshift lifeline, Jacob paused to draw in ragged breaths, each inhale a struggle against the biting cold that gnawed at his bones. Surrendering momentarily to the river's relentless flow, he allowed himself to drift downstream, the cold waters offering a temporary reprieve from the searing ache that gripped his body. With a shiver wracking his frame, he summoned the fading embers of his resolve and began a feeble stroke towards the southern bank. His vision blurred, teetering on the edge of oblivion, as he fought against encroaching unconsciousness, his sole wish to reach safety before the murky depths swallowed him whole...
Hunter's imposing figure loomed over the bustling bridge, his horse coming to a halt with practiced grace. A subtle exhale preceded his dismount, the air thick with anticipation as he merged into the cluster of Templars fixated on the murky expanse of the river below.
"REPORT" Hunter's voice cut through the stillness of the night, commanding attention. Startled, a nearby Templar swiftly reported, "The target's carriage collided with the bridge, sir. He won't be causing any more trouble."
In the murky glow of lantern light, a Templar swaggered forth, his features bathed in an eerie radiance. "Ha! Perfect shot, wasn't it? Knew I'd nail him," he crowed with smug satisfaction, exuding arrogance in every word. Hunter's eyes darted to the boastful figure, his gaze sharpening as he uttered in a low, menacing voice, "You stole my kill, did you?"
The remaining Templars, their faces drained of colour, reacted to the tense air surrounding them. In stark contrast, the arrogant man remained unflinching, his response cutting through the tension with audacious defiance, "I did. So what?"
In a sudden, predatory strike, Hunter's hand lashed out with viper-like speed, seizing the Templar by the throat in a vice-like grip. In one fluid and merciless movement, he forcefully drove the man down onto the unyielding cobblestones, the resounding thud reverberating through the stillness of the night. The Templar's desperate gasps for air were drowned out by the sound of his choking wheezes, his eyes bulging wide in sheer terror.
"Let this serve as a stark reminder," Hunter intoned, his voice a menacing growl as he tightened his grip, the man's legs flailing wildly in a desperate bid for air. "A reminder to all of you... Never steal my mark ever... Again!"
The area fell into a chilling silence as the Templars bore witness to Hunter's ruthless efficiency. Their expressions twisted in a mix of dread and disbelief, mirroring the fear that gripped their hearts. With a deliberate precision, Hunter tightened his grip on the gasping man's throat, each movement calculated and merciless. After ensuring the life had completely drained from his prey, Hunter rose from his crouch. He straightened his posture with an air of eerie calmness, nonchalantly adjusting the cuffs of his coat as if he had just completed a mundane task.
Hunter's demeanour shifted seamlessly, his once tense posture now exuding a chilling calmness. With a composed tone that sent shivers down the spines of his subordinates, he delivered his orders with an icy precision. "Commence a thorough search along the Thames downstream. Leave no stone unturned on the banks and in the vicinity, extending your investigation to Woolwich. I demand solid proof of Jacob Frye's demise. And should fate lead you to discover him breathing, ensure he remains untouched until I have him, lest you face consequences far graver than you can fathom..."
